


Feeling Peeved

by cursedcontentdotcom



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Café Musain, Crack, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27847110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cursedcontentdotcom/pseuds/cursedcontentdotcom
Summary: Inspired by alicedrawslesmis's postasking what people's les mis pet peeves were!We were joking about doing a compilation fic featuring as many as possible, so... I've tried to include as many as I could that are just pet hates and not genuine criticisms (with a few of my own sprinkled in).
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 65
Collections: Recs from the Watchalong Room





	Feeling Peeved

**Author's Note:**

> TW for mention of mental health/coping mechanisms. This is not intended to make fun of anybody who is struggling or indeed uses smoking to cope. I am, however, intending to gently poke fun at popular characterisations of Grantaire, and smoking in public buildings where it isn't allowed does in fact make you an asshole.

It is a sunny morning in the Cafe Musain and the ABC Club are having an argument.

'I don't think you understand, Ferre,' Kyle Courfeyrac whines, his feet up on the table. 'Glitter is an _essential_ part of my outfit. It represents who I am!'

Kurt Combeferre, with a tired look, pushes Courfeyrac's feet off. 'I don't care if glitter saved your firstborn child, it's bad for the environment.'

'But Fe-eeerre,' Courfeyrac says, with puppy eyes. 'What about Pride? How am I supposed to - ' he waggles his eyebrows suggestively, 'seduce the masses, without glitter?'

'Enough!' Gavin Enjolras snaps, his voice cutting across the cafe and putting an end to the conversation. 'We're here to make plans.'

'And drink coffee,' Wayne Joly pipes up. 'Make plans _and_ drink coffee.'

Enjolras just glowers.

'Hey, maybe you should lighten up,' Raymond Grantaire calls, from the back of the room where he's smoking next to a closed window. He's been doodling on Eponine's arm; some kind of intricate design that Enjolras can't make out from this distance.

'You're not allowed to smoke in here,' Enjolras says flatly. 'It's a non-smoking building.'

'Chill, Apollo.' Grantaire blows a smoke ring directly into the room. 'It's for my mental health.'

'You know Grantaire's been struggling lately,' Steve Bossuet says, uncomfortably to Enjolras. 'He needs this.'

'Can he need it outside the building?'

'Wow, Apollo,' Grantaire says, his light tone barely concealing a layer of hurt. 'It's like you don't care about anyone's wellbeing.'

'That's not what I said.'

'Not all of us,' Grantaire stretches, 'can afford fancy therapy, you know? Some of us have to make do with what we got.'

'Yeah, Enjolras,' Fitzwilliam Feuilly says. 'Maybe, uh, let it slide?'

'This is a _historical site_ ,' Enjolras cries. 'The French Revolution began _in this very room_. The first barricade was erected here! I don't think it's too much to ask that we respect this building's heritage - '

'Fine, I'll go,' Grantaire says, getting to his feet and stubbing out his cigarette on the wooden table surface. Without another word, he slouches sadly from the room.

Silence falls. The smell of cigarettes still hangs in the air; Joly is coughing quietly. Everyone is staring at Enjolras like he just shot a puppy.

'Was that really necessary?' Combeferre asks. 'You know Grantaire's having a tough time right now.'

'Dude just got evicted,' Courfeyrac confirms. 'I think he's living on Eponine's sofa.'

''Sofa' is a generous word for it,' Eponine says. 'But yeah, he's like, barely coping.'

Enjolras flushes. Maybe he had been a little harsh. He can't say why, exactly, but Grantaire always manages to push his buttons. He just gets under Enjolras's skin in a way that no one else... _oh._

'I'll be right back,' he says, running outside without stopping to grab his coat.

Grantaire hasn't gone far, Enjolras catches up with him in the street.

'I'm sorry,' Enjolras says without preamble, 'I was being a dick.'

Grantaire smiles, tiredly. 'Well, yeah. It's fine, whatever, dude.'

Enjolras's hand snaps out to grab Grantaire's wrist. 'No, it's not fine. You're my friend and I didn't even notice that you were unhappy.'

Grantaire shrugs. 'S'nothing new.'

'That doesn't make it _better.'_

Grantaire just shrugs again. Apathy might as well be his middle name.

'Raymond,' Enjolras says, slowly.

Grantaire's eyes dart upwards. No one ever calls him by his first name.

'Gavin,' he says, with a challenging smirk.

It's Enjolras's turn to blink in surprise. Two can play at that game.

'Hey,' he says, much softer now. 'I just... I want you to be okay, okay? I know I can be a little harsh sometimes.'

Grantaire shifts, awkwardly, on the spot. 'Why do you care so much? I didn't think you gave a shit about me.'

Enjolras doesn't think about what he does next. He just moves, his mouth moving forward to smash inelegantly against Grantaire's. For a second the shorter man is frozen in shock, and then he responds, returning the blond's embrace. After a few moments Enjolras deepens the kiss, probing his tongue experimentally against Grantaire's moist lips. Grantaire opens his mouth to suck on Enjolras's tongue, caressing it with his own.

Maybe, sometimes, starting a fight is a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're on tumblr come and say hi at [badlesmisimaginesofficial!](https://badlesmisimaginesofficial.tumblr.com/)


End file.
